


Against the cold

by WahlBuilder



Series: Fang and Claw [4]
Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, M/M, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17713070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: The hunter Viktor Watcher is dying.





	Against the cold

He’s cold.

He’s dying, he knows that. He tries to gather his thoughts together but they slip through his fingers like… like ice. Burning. He’s so cold. His mind keeps sliding into one thought: Jeffrey isn’t ready. He hasn’t told the boy everything, hasn’t taught him everything, he’s going to _die_ …

He needs to give his sword to Jeffrey. He needs to — but he has to clean it first. It is not right to give a blade with spots of dirt and rust. He needs to clean it, there’s been a rag in his bag and a whetstone, he needs to…

He always tells the boy to keep his blade clean and sharp. Besides the practical, it is a sign of… Of…

“Your heart is failing.”

…of discipline. Yes. He needs to clean it. If only he could reach for it…

“You are dying.”

“Shut. Up,” he manages through gritted teeth. It’s difficult to breathe, and his hands are getting colder than usual, and so heavy, but he has to, he must reach for the blade and to clean it up before he dies, he must…

He can’t reach it.

“Viktor.”

He drops his hand, and the world blurs in addition to going dark and frizzly at the edges.

But Anton is sharp, coming close, and helps him sit up, one arm under Viktor’s back. The strange eyes, light and blood, come into view, looking down at him. Pale face softened by sadness.

Anton’s hand is firm on his cheek. He leans to it. Anton’s thumb brushes under his eyes, and then Anton sucks the thumb into his mouth.

That only makes Viktor’s chest tighten. He’s scared. He’s very, very scared. And he hasn’t cleaned his blade. “Упырь,” he whispers, trying to smile. No way he’s going down showing his fear.

“I’m not letting you go, Vitya. The hunt is not over.”

It is, it is, he’s so cold and tired, he can’t rest, but he can’t fight it anymore.

He closes his eyes, his eyelids so heavy.

Lips press to his, soft and familiar, and a tongue slips in, like many times before, and… He tastes blood, trickling into his mouth, sweet and spicy and potent. He gasps, licking it up, moaning.

It’s warm.


End file.
